21
by xerxia31
Summary: Modern AU, best friends Peeta and Katniss celebrate his 21st birthday with a night to remember.
From a Tumblr prompt (Peeta's 21st birthday party. Can be any universe, but modern AU is definitely preferable!). This is smut without substance. Rated mature for sexual situations and language, and mostly written under the influence of copious amounts of rum. You've been warned :)

* * *

She knocks on my door but doesn't wait for me to answer, breezing in, a whirlwind of black boots and black jeans and glossy black hair, pulled back in a braid. "Peeta," she whines. "You're not even dressed yet."

It's my 21st birthday, and Katniss Everdeen, my life-long best friend, and star of virtually every wet dream I've ever had, is insistent we are going out.

"Katniss," I groan, fully aware this is a battle I'm going to lose. "I have booze here. Let's stay in."

"Absolutely not, I've been waiting 23 days for this, we're going out!" Yeah, Katniss is 23 days older than me; she's steadfastly refused over the past three weeks to hit any of the bars around our college campus until we could go together. Part of me is incredibly touched by that.

"Get dressed, Mellark!" She grabs me by the hair and tugs, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make my cock to jump. As if the skimpy silvery top she's wearing wasn't already making little Peeta twitch. But I head to my bedroom anyway. "Wear those jeans that make your ass look so good," she yells over my shoulder.

She has no idea, the effect she has.

* * *

The Hob is kind of a dive but the music is pulsing and the liquor is cheap. The bartender, intimidating with spiky hair and a bunch of facial piercings, gives me my first beer for free when she cards me, since it's my birthday.

* * *

Katniss orders tequila shooters. I'm not even done my second beer before she's lining them up on the table. But when I reach for one she scoffs. "Mellark!" she chides, indignant and already a little tipsy. "You have to do it right!" She makes sure I'm watching, then her pink tongue slips out, languidly licking her own hand, just below her thumb. I can't tear my eyes away. She smirks, and sprinkles salt over the wet patch. What I'd give to be that salt, following the trail of her tongue.

"Now you," she murmurs, barely audible over the pulsing music. I hold her eyes as I repeat her action, and her eyes narrow just a little as she watches me. She slides a shot in front of me. "You have to lick off the salt first, then drink the tequila." Her voice is so husky, so fucking hot. We've always flirted, but never like this. Never fucking like this.

She lifts her hand, but she doesn't bring it to her mouth. Instead she grabs my wrist. I can't even blink as she drags my hand towards her mouth. But when she wraps her lips around my hand, her tongue swirling in the salt on my skin, my eyes slip shut. I don't even attempt to stifle the moan that climbs up my throat. She pulls away slowly, her eyes never leaving my face as she tosses back the shot of tequila, then she smiles around the lime slice.

I don't think I've ever been so hard. I don't know if this is real, and I don't even fucking care. "Your turn," she whispers, her voice lost in the pounding of my heart in my ears. I take the bait; bringing her hand to my lips, sucking first on her thumb before trailing my tongue down to lap up the salt. I know I'm not imagining the way her nipples tighten and strain against that sexy silver blouse.

Two more shots and she's dragging me to the dance floor. I'm completely under her spell, I'd follow her to hell and back only for the pleasure of watching her hips sway so seductively. We dance, if you can call it that. Pressed tightly together, her ass cradling my cock as she grinds to the music, it's almost pornographic.

When the beat slows she spins in my arms, pressing against me, arms looped lazily around my neck. I'm lost in her silver eyes as we sway, her face tipped up, hot citrusy breath caressing my chin. "Are you enjoying your birthday, Peeta?" she breathes.

"Fuck yes," I say. Our mouths are just a hairsbreadth apart, but before I can lean in and finally, finally taste those lush lips, painted and glossed, she steps away. I'm in a daze as she takes my hand and leads me through the crowd.

But I'm bewildered when we slide through a door and emerge in the dim alley behind the bar. "Katniss?" I question.

"Shhhh," she breathes, backing me against a rough brick wall and lifting on her toes. Then her lips are on mine and I forget my unease.

Her mouth is hot and her tongue aggressive, she tastes like tequila and lust. My fingers wind in her raven locks and she whines her approval. My whole life I have dreamed and fantasized and pumped my cock to thoughts of kissing her. It doesn't disappoint.

We kiss and lick and bite and grope and grind. She pulls my hair, I squeeze her tits. I have no idea how we got here, how I'm doing this with my best friend. I didn't think she had ever noticed the hard on I've had for her since we were middle schoolers, but maybe I'm wrong.

My dick is throbbing and I'm panting when she pulls back, wild eyed and swollen lipped. "I want to give you your birthday gift," she purrs. Who is this vixen, this seductress? Then she drops to her knees.

"What?" Is all my brain can manage. I'm dreaming; at any moment my alarm is going to go off and I'm going to wake up panting and stuck to the sheets. But she looks up at me through thick lashes, her eyes determined and glinting with mischief. And maybe more.

Just her small hand releasing me from my jeans is almost enough to get me off. I try to protest, though I have no idea if any words leave my mouth. Then that sleek pink tongue slides up my shaft, circling around the head, her eyes fixed unblinking on mine.

I'm dead.

She licks and kisses and teases until I can't resist burying my hands in her hair and thrusting against her lips. Then with a wicked grin she descends, taking me into the slick wet heat of her mouth.

In my entire fucking life nothing has ever felt so good. Benedictions fall from my mouth as I praise her in grunts and curse words. Her hands squeeze my ass and her throat massages my tip and I'm gonna cum.

"Katniss… Katniss…" I beg. She knows what I'm trying to say, knows what I'm trying to do as I push on her shoulder, but she doesn't move. She continues suckling and moaning, the vibrations reverberating in my tingling balls. I shoot my load, cumming so hard I actually see stars.

I'm still whimpering my gratitude, eyes screwed tightly shut, when she tucks me back into my jeans with a tenderness so at odds with the aggressive way she just blew me in a dark alley. Salty and sweet, my Katniss.

I hold her close, kissing her hair as I tremble and quake. Her fingers trace soothing designs on my back and she melts against me. It feels incredible, almost better than her mouth on my dick. I shouldn't say anything, but I have to know. As if she's anticipating my question, she lays a gentle finger across my lips. "Tomorrow. We can talk about it tomorrow."

But when I wake up in the morning I'm alone, with no memory of how I got here. Hungover, confused and very alone, wondering if any of that actually happened, or if it was just another in a long line of fantasies about my best friend.

When I climb in the shower I see it; Katniss Everdeen's perfect peachy lipgloss painting my dick like a brand. And I know it was real. And I know I want more.


End file.
